Retreat
by Gumnut
Summary: It was their place.


Title: Retreat

Title: Retreat  
Author: Gumnut  
Fandom: Knight Rider  
Characters: Kitt (via Michael)  
Challenge: Blue (**colorific**)...I know, I know, the colour isn't in the fic, but it was what inspired it.  
Rating: PG  
Summary: It was their retreat  
Word count: 1,233  
Spoilers & warnings: Season 3  
Disclaimer: Mine? You gotta be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.  
Author's notes: An added scene for 'Junkyard Dog'. This is the fifth, last and incredibly overdue fic for the first **colorific** challenge. Since when do I take any notice of due dates :rolls eyes: But hey, for the first time in my life, I might have actually finished something :D Also, I had an argument with this fic and I'm still not sure who won. Many thanks to Shady (**dknightshade**) for the read through and the kick up the butt in the right direction. :hugs:

Retreat  
An episode addition to 'Junkyard Dog'  
By Gumnut  
22 Mar/30 Dec 2006

The day was dry, but it should have been raining. It would have been far more appropriate for the sky to be tumbling down, shedding water. Perhaps his wish for it had to do with the parched ground, but no…it was more primal than that.

It was a need. A need to illustrate grief.

The sun was setting on a perfectly dry, sunny day that took no notice of the injury that had occurred.

Michael walked.

Walked.

Appropriate in action really.

Up the drive towards their 'garage'. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. Usually he had company and his company had wheels.

He passed the old, bent peppercorn and stepped over the rut Kitt complained about every single time he drove over it. He must remember to finally check with the groundsman and see to getting that fixed. If Kitt hadn't already. He wouldn't put it past his partner to corner the poor man. Nothing like an annoyed car to motivate a person.

The gravel of the road edging crunched under his boots. He hadn't realised there was such a slope here. Either that or he was out of shape again. Between injury and work, he was finding it hard to fit in a regular fitness schedule. Too much time spent on his butt in the car.

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

He grimaced.

Distraction.

He shifted from a casual walk into a trot, turning it into a jog up the hill.

This morning.

Last night.

He could still hear Kitt's screams.

He shook his head and picked up his pace. Distraction.

The sun was disappearing over the tops of the trees in the park. It was getting late. He should be down at the main building eating dinner. Bonnie would be there.

No, she wouldn't.

Not anymore than he.

She would be at the lab, saving what she could.

He increased his pace again.

He'd heard Kitt say his name so many times. Fondly. Sarcastically. Worriedly. Humorously.

But never desperately. Not in fear of his life. And rightfully so.

_Michael! Help me!_

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, but kept on running.

Run yourself into a tree, you fool.

He stopped at the top of the hill, spreading his legs and leaning forward. Breathing heavily, face red from exertion. Too much time behind the damn wheel.

Thankfully, he didn't have very far to go.

The drive ended in a cul-de-sac lined with buildings. Only one of them drew his attention, the others little more than scenery.

Finding himself at a run yet again, he pelted across the asphalt only to stop dead at the jet-black roller door. Hesitation. Did he really want to be here? His fingers hovered over the access plate.

His prints touched the surface. He rarely used it. He rarely came here without Kitt.

He was rarely without Kitt period.

He swallowed.

The door rolled up quietly and the light came on automatically.

Michael stepped inside and the seal to his privacy slid shut behind him just as quietly as it had opened.

A stranger might be forgiven for asking what the room was for. It didn't look like a garage and it wasn't really. Kitt had several garages, but this wasn't one of them. This was a retreat, built for the both of them. A place halfway between house and garage where human and AI could meet in comfort. Carpet lined the floor, wall to wall, a large decorative mat protecting it where Kitt usually rested. In one corner sat a sofa, in another, beneath windows to the darkening sky outside, a table and chairs. He knew both well. He often sat out here with his partner discussing the current case or simply shooting the breeze. It was a place they called their own.

It was also where Kitt kept all his personal items. In one corner was the pile of auto accessories he'd won in a competition a few weeks back. Michael found himself smiling just at the sight of them. Kitt was fully aware his driver's amusement and supplied the required sarcastic comment every time the grin appeared on Michael's face.

There were also ribbons, collected from the many races Kitt had been a participant, willing or not. Michael had pinned each of them up on the wall. A rainbow of colours, catching the light...

Blurring just slightly.

He walked through the empty space, between the twin tracks of tyre tread worn into the mat. The room was empty of life. There were echoes of his partner, like the echo of the empty shell they'd dragged from the pit this morning.

He swallowed again.

Kitt would never admit it, but Michael knew the AI took a little pride in his display of achievements. When they had first set up this place, Michael had been adamant that Kitt should display his awards, the driver climbing chairs and ladders to stick up the ribbons. A cabinet was acquired for the trophies, trinkets, souvenirs, and pieces of artwork done in Kitt's honour. Kitt had protested the blatant display, but Michael had persisted, and now the AI made sure each new addition had pride of place.

Michael reached out to touch a sculpture of the Trans Am. His driver held no little amount of pride for the AI either.

Kitt.

He didn't want to think about it. But he had come here, this place of safety, of laughter, retreat. He had come to their home.

Why?

Looking for his partner?

Kitt wasn't here!

But he wasn't in that dead shell at the other end of the complex either.

He bit his lip, hard. For one time in his entire life Kitt needed him and he hadn't been able to do anything.

_Michael! Help me!_

_Help me!_

Please help me.

He kept running over scenarios in his mind as to what he could have done to prevent it. Where he should have been. What he should have done differently.

Regardless...it was irrelevant. What was done was done.

_Michael! Help me!_

I can't, Kitt, I can't.

Acid burns. On his fingers and on his clothes. Part of him had wanted to jump into that pit, regardless of the consequences. He didn't care what it took; he had to get Kitt out of there. Kitt needed him.

But...

He found himself on his knees in front of the cabinet. Ribbons and shiny pieces of plastic taunted him. Smiling photographs laughed at his audacity to hope.

Oh, god, Kitt, I'm so sorry.

But there was no one to hear his apology. And there may never be.

Life without Kitt?

His mind shutdown. He didn't want to contemplate the thought. Couldn't handle it. Not now. No. Not now. Now, people had to pay.

He screwed his eyes shut again, moisture leaking out of their corners.

They would pay. By god, they would pay. They had no idea what they had done. No idea of who they had killed. No idea that they had killed.

He bit through his lip. Anger mixed with grief and his head spun. But they would. They would.

He drew in a ragged breath.

It was so quiet here. Private. Their retreat. Theirs.

He leant against the cabinet and the glass was cold against his cheek. Silent tears ran down his face.

I'm so sorry, Kitt. So, so sorry.

If only sorry was enough.

-o-o-o-  
FIN.


End file.
